


Some Kind of Fairytale

by venis_envy



Series: Mating Games: Round 2 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bored Stiles, M/M, Rescue Missions, Roadtrips, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy/pseuds/venis_envy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All ficlets I write for the Mating Games challenges and bonus rounds will be posted here (unless it's something so utterly shameful I'd rather not de-anon for it). Most can be expected to include some explicit form of sexual conduct, but in some cases, it may just be implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kind of Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> Mating Games weekly challenges are required to be between 500 and 750 words, so most of the time, I find myself shaving off extra words to whittle it down. I don't have the same rules and regulations on my own AO3, so I'll be posting the uncut versions here. They're still all short, but each part of the series is a separate fic.

"What are you doing?"

Stiles narrows his eyes and goes back to scribbling into his notebook. "Dylan wants to know what Steve is doing..." He trails off, biting the end of his pen as he squints down at the words. 

"Dylan?" Derek asks, eyebrows drawn into a thick line of 'fuck you' on his face. 

Stiles shrugs. "Yeah. Names are changed to protect the innocent and all that shit."

Derek shakes his head and turns his attention back to the road in front of them. "So many questions," he murmurs to the windshield. 

"Well," Stiles begins, turning in the passenger seat to face Derek fully, "since you're curious: I'm thinking of writing a children's book. The lighter side of fairytale monsters, y'know? _Things That Go Derp in the Night._ Dylan—that's you—will be the main character. A werewolf who's really more like an old lady's lapdog and can't keep his shit together to save his life. Literally."

Derek's grip tightens on the steering wheel, jaw clenching in a way that stiles knows means he's about to snap. 

After a short beat of silence, Derek surprises him, though. "You're not naming my character Dylan."

"What?" Stiles has gone back to chewing his pen, studying the notes on his page and visualizing Dylan dropping a toaster into the tub in an ill advised attempt to smoosh together morning tasks and shorten the time it takes him to get ready for school. "What's wrong with Dylan? I think it's a great name. Plus, it's close to Derek and easy to remember."

"Dylan is a ridiculous name."

"It's a _hero's_ name, Derek. I'm gonna write you as a hero in this." After the toaster thing, of course. 

"Actually," Derek replies, that smug tone Stiles knows all too well back in full force, "it's a Welsh name that means 'great flow.' You'd be naming a character after an extreme menstrual cycle."

"You're an asshole," Stiles says. "And I'm keeping it. It's a great name."

"Give me _one_ adult whose name is Dylan."

"Bob Dylan," Stiles fires back, without missing a beat. 

"Bob Dylan is a tool. Try again."

"Dylan...Sanders?" Stiles cringes. 

"Seriously? You're giving me one of Charlie's Angels?"

"Okay, in my defense, you weren't actually supposed to know that one."

"That's you're defense?"

"Well, you're not giving me much wiggle room here." Stiles tosses his pen and notebook to the floorboard, earning a sideways glare from Derek. "Roadtrips are exhausting."

"I'm sorry," Derek says sardonically. "Would you like me to pull over so that _you_ can rest?"

"Hey, I told you I'd drive while you bleed out in the passenger seat." 

Derek glances down at his chest. The bleeding has stopped, at least. Once Stiles dug the bullet out, the wolfsbane started to work its way out of his system. His tattered shirt is still covered in blood, though. 

"Even injured, my reflexes are better. And it's _my_ car."

Stiles groans and stretches out in his seat. "Unappreciative."

He fiddles with the stereo, finally settling on a slightly scratchy classic rock station that's playing Tesla. 

Derek's fingers curl around Stiles' while they're still lingering on the dial. He tugs his hand away from the stereo, turning down the volume just as they're being told _do this, don't do that, can't you read the signs._ When Derek doesn't immediately push Stiles' arm back to the passenger side of the car, Stiles chances a glance over at him. 

Derek's eyes are locked firmly on the road ahead. "Thank you," he says eventually, thumb rubbing absently on the back of Stiles' hand. 

Stiles swallows, gaze lingering on the tendons shifting in Derek's arm. 

"Uh...you're welcome?"

"I mean it," Derek says, looking over at Stiles now. "I don't really have much of a pack left—" Stiles tries to interrupt, to tell Derek that he does have a pack, even if it isn't quite the same as the one he built for himself, but Derek squeezes Stiles' hand in warning. "Not a lot of people I can count on anymore. And trust you to ignore logic and defy the odds by yourself. If it wasn't for your stubborn attitude and perseverance, I'd be—"

"Yeah," Stiles does cut him off then, "maybe. Or maybe Chris would've pulled his head out if his ass and come to save you himself."

Derek shakes his head. "He didn't."

~

It's always the simplest character in fairytales, the one that's made to be least obvious as the story's hero. The one who doesn't have the ability to fly or read minds or rend flesh from bones with their bare fingers. 

Stiles is nothing exceptional in this world of supernatural fairytale monsters in which he lives. He's a teenager with a baseball bat and ambiguous morals. 

Later, when they find some reprieve, Stiles will remember to finish his story. When he’s not blinded by pleasure at Derek’s hands, breathless from thick, white-hot need firing through him, he’ll consider it. He won’t be able to ignore that small sense of pride, the power that radiates from within, serving to remind him that he really is an integral part of it all. He'll continue to make light of the situations they fall into, and he'll keep doing his part to dig his friends out of trouble. 

Stiles thinks maybe that's not such a terrible Happily Ever After.


End file.
